


Coffee Moments

by Jyun2680



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Family, Hurt/Comfort, Oneshot, rated t for mild cursing, the whole spy thing didn't happen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2019-05-28 23:52:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15060518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jyun2680/pseuds/Jyun2680
Summary: There are moments when Batman sleeps. There are moments when the cave is quiet except for the hum of the computer. There are moments when Alfred rests and Damian snores. And then there are moments when coffee is needed.Dick Grayson and Bruce Wayne couldn't sleep. So, they ebb their exhaustion away with some warm coffee and a conversation held in a dimly lit kitchen.





	Coffee Moments

**Author's Note:**

> No warnings- just two grown men drinking coffee at too late in the late o’clock.  
> Word count: 1549  
> A/N- It’s funny how the best ideas come when your mind is supposed to be resting. I wrote this at 1 in the morning.

Bruce had roused from bed after a losing battle with sleep. His body ached for some rest, but his mind buzzed in a pitiful awakeness. So, he lazily rose from his bed and headed downstairs. Bruce rubbed at his tired eyes and thought about finishing up some case files.  
But some coffee first, Bruce grumbled to himself.  
“Dick?” Bruce called out in surprise. His eldest son had been sitting in the kitchen with a mug of coffee in his hand.  
Dick blinked up from his phone and replied with the same surprise, “Bruce, I thought you were sleeping.”  
“So did I,” Bruce retorted back. He still stood at the doorway of the kitchen. Dick didn't have the same exhaustive tone as he did, which meant Dick had been up longer than Bruce has. Bruce made no move to grab the cup of coffee he was hoping for, instead opting to look around the kitchen. Only the stove light was on, but it was bright enough to see his way around. The room had smelt like coffee and there was still a hint of whatever spices Alfred used to make dinner with.  
“Are you just gonna stand there or…” Dick asked with a small grin. He gestured to the empty seat next to him.  
“I was going to finish up some case files,” Bruce replied somewhat apologetically.  
Dick grimaced and said, “I already finished up all the ones that weren't done.” He offered a small shrug. “They were pretty easy. You would have finished them in an hour.” Dick tore his eyes away from Bruce and focused on the chipped paint on the wall. “But you don't have to sit here, if you don't want to.”  
Bruce’s stomach tugged and softly said, “No, I'll sit. Let me just- let me pour myself a cup of coffee.”  
He robotically poured the coffee beans into coffee machine and turned the machine back on. He ruffled through the cabinets to look for his mug and frowned when he kept coming up empty.  
“If you're looking for your mug, I have it right here.”  
Bruce turned to Dick who was swinging the small, round black mug in his hand.  
Dick grinned and defended himself. “What? You can't blame me. Your mug stays warm the longest.”  
Bruce let out a growl and that only caused Dick’s smiled to widen. Bruce swiveled around and choose the deep blue mug. He sat on the seat with a slight harumph.  
“Did you pick my mug as a sign of protest?” Dick croaked out between soft laughs. Bruce offered no reply and only slipped his drink.  
“Why aren’t you in bed?” Bruce asked casually as possible.  
Dick gave a shrug in return. “I couldn't sleep.”  
Bruce ignored the way Dick avoided eye contact when he had replied. Or the way Dick’s grip tightened on his mug. Because he didn't want the night-or morning rather- to end in a fight. So, Bruce remained silent letting the silence stir comfortably around them. Still, he took small glances at Dick sipping his coffee.  
“Do you remember the first time you tried coffee?” Bruce asked.  
“What? No, I don't think so,” Dick said, perplexed by the sudden question.  
Bruce rested his head against his hand, both exhausted and awake at the same time.  
“You were thirteen about the time. You said it was gross,” he said with a small smile. Bruce remembered the thirteen-year-old, curious about the beverage his mentor drank every night, and took a small sip. The small wrinkle of the nose and how he had stuck out his tongue in disgust had been priceless. Priceless enough for him to remember almost 20 years later.  
“The way you drink coffee is disgusting,” Dick insulted haughtily.  
“Well, I’m not a big sugar fiend like you,” Bruce explained.  
“Hey, I only put in two spoons of sugar!” Dick defended.  
“I thought it was three.”  
Dick shook his head. “I went down. I drank it with three one day and had to throw it out because it was too sweet.” His eldest son stared at him with wide eyes. “Do you know what that means, Bruce?”  
Bruce only rose an eyebrow.  
“It means I’m getting old! First, I lose my sweet tooth and then I’m gonna go grey!” Dick said dramatically.  
Bruce snickered and replied, “Then what does that make me?”  
Dick looked at his mentor with a serious expression and said, “Old- too old to be wearing tights at night.”  
A silence fell between them as they blinked at each other. Soon, the two men were bellowing out in laughter. Bruce had missed this. Having such an easy conversation with his eldest son felt rare nowadays. Dick had been busy with the reuniting with the Titans and settling in Bludhaven. Whenever he was pulled into Gotham, Dick’s time was divided into a case or Damian. Not that he minded. The two had obviously bonded, and Damian needed someone who he could trust other than his father. But still, he missed his eldest son.  
Their laughter died down and another comfortable silence fell between them.  
Bruce was almost finished with his coffee and was already thinking about getting a second when Dick groaned out, “I’m still having nightmares.”  
Bruce sat up straighter and still. “What?” Bruce breathed out. He wasn't expecting to have this conversation now. Perhaps a day later when he would eventually coax it out of Dick what had been bothering him.  
“I had a nightmare about me in that stupid fucking room hooked up to that stupid fucking machine,” Dick confessed. He rested his elbows on his legs and his head against his hands.  
Bruce’s stomach lurched, and his mouth went dry. He felt his heart hammering with rage. It did whenever he remembered his son hooked up to a bomb, with only his life to sacrifice to save thousands of others. It hadn't been fair for Dick, it still wasn’t.  
“Sometimes I just die from Luthor’s pill. And it sucks because Crime Syndicate did so much shit to me and I just wanted to live. Or I do live long enough to explode and kill you and kill so many people. And I see it- me exploding. It's terrifying how much blood there is. I don't know which is worse beca-" Bruce interrupted Dick’s panicked rambling by placing his hand on his knee.  
“Dick,” Bruce softly called. Dick glanced up from his hands to find mentor staring at him. “Calm down.”  
Dick felt grateful for the Batman voice as he let out a shaky breath.  
“I’m sorry for putting this...this mess on you,” Dick apologized lowly.  
Bruce’s stomach tugged again and held back a sigh. Sometimes he, himself, had nightmares of that incident. It was of him beating Luthor to a bloody pulp and his rage blinding him. By the time Bruce discovered Lex’s true plan, it was too late. Or somehow he was too far from the bomb to harm him. So, he watched the bomb explode into a puff of fire and smoke. Everything he cared for gone in an instant. But this night isn't about him.  
“Dick, look at me,” Bruce ordered.  
Dick withdrew his hands and weakly confessed, “Sometimes the dying feels so real even though it's just a dream.”  
Bruce let the grip on Dick’s knee tighten a smidge. “But you're here.”  
The grip seemed to ground Dick and he held back a sob. Dick balled his fists until he could feel his nails dig into his skin.  
“But I’m here,” Dick repeated.

Dick doesn't know how long they stayed and talked. Even though both seemed to be tired and worn down, neither left to sleep. Both kept drinking their coffee and refilling the pot when needed. They had laughed, but neither cried.  
It was only when Alfred turned on the kitchen lights both men went finally silent.  
“Oh my word, what were you two doing in the dark?” the butler questioned.  
Dick adjusted to the light and replied with a smirk, “We weren't in the dark.” He pointed to the stove light. Alfred rolled his eyes and shook his head.  
“Well I’m assuming you two are going to skip breakfast in order to catch up on some sleep.” The tone Alfred used meant there was no room for argument.  
“Well, might as well get some rest, chum,” Bruce said while standing up from the chair. Dick yawned loudly and said, “That doesn’t sound too bad actually.”  
Both men trudged up to the second floor. Dick heard Damian getting ready for school in his room, which made Dick’s heart squeeze in happiness. Just the thought of Damian being alive was enough to make him giddy.  
Dick was near his room when he called out, “Bruce?” Bruce poked his head out from his bedroom.  
“Good night, or morning, or whatever,” Dick hummed out.  
“Back at you, Dick,” Bruce huffed out tiredly with a small smile.  
Dick closed his bedroom door, feeling much lighter than before, dropped on to his bed and let sleep overtake him. 

There are moments when Alfred makes breakfast. There are moments when Damian gets dressed for school. There are moments when coffee is needed. And then there are moments when sleep is much more preferred.


End file.
